Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Captain Dog

April 5th is the day of departure.It was somewhat reassuring that the doctor was admitted on board.Wherever the venerable scholar suggested to go, people followed.But most of the sailors were not worried, but Shandon was afraid that some people would desert, so that the ship would be short-handed, and he was eager to go to sea.The coast is gone, and the boat sets off. Dr. Crawford's cabin was at the bottom of the poop, which took up the whole of the rear of the ship.The captain's and mate's cabins were on the opposite side, facing the deck.The captain's quarters, mysteriously closed, were furnished with all manner of implements, furniture, nautical clothing, books, and alternative clothing and supplies, as specified in a detailed inventory.On the orders of a stranger, the key to this room was given to him in Lubeck, and he alone could enter it.

This detail offended Shandon and robbed him of many opportunities as a commander.As for his own cabin, he found it perfectly suitable for the intended voyage, and he was well aware of the requirements of polar expeditions. The mate's quarters were situated on the lowest deck, forming a wide corridor for the sailors; one felt very comfortable there; such conveniences are seldom encountered in any other ship.It was cared for like a precious commodity; a cauldron took center stage in the public hall. Dr. Crawburn himself took responsibility; he had occupied his cabin since 6 February, the day after the Advance was launched.

"The happiest animal," he said, "is the snail who can make its own shell; I am a snail of knowledge with all my heart." There is no doubt that his room is well-arranged as a shell that he cannot leave for long.The doctor organizes his scientific supplies with the pleasure of a scholar or a child.His books, his botanical atlas, his notebooks, his precision instruments, his physical instruments, his sets of thermometers, barometers, hydrometers, spectacles, compasses, sextants, maps, charts, Vials, powders, a very complete set of travel phials, all in such order that the British Museum would be ashamed.This six-square-meter space holds endless treasures; the doctor can become a doctor, mathematician, astronomer, geographer, botanist or shellfish at any time without leaving his seat.

Admittedly, he's proud of these contraptions and is happy in his floating palace, which could be stuffed with three of his skinniest friends.And these people soon swarmed and became so cumbersome that even such a good-natured man as the doctor, disregarding the example set by Socrates, finally said: "My house is too small, please God it won't be full of friends!" To make the description of the "Forward" complete, it needs to be added that the Great Dane's kennel was built just under the window of the mysterious quarters; Impossible to domesticate, no one understands its strange nature, especially at night, when one hears its mournful howls, echoing eerily from cabin to cabin.

Is it mourning the absence of its master?Does it instinctively feel a dangerous journey?Does it foresee danger?The sailors agreed with one another that this was the last reason, and joked about it, and they all seriously believed that the dog was a beast reincarnated from the devil. Payne was quite a rough fellow, and one day he rushed to hit it, only to have the misfortune of falling around the winch corner and falling horribly on his head.It was agreed that the accident had occurred in the consciousness of the wonderful beast. Clifton, the most superstitious member of the crew, made the unusual remark that when the dog was in the poop, he always went with the wind; later, when the ship was out at sea tackling , the strange brute changed places every time it turned, maintaining direction like the captain of the Forward.

Dr. Crowburny's gentleness and touch are enough to tame a tiger.It was a waste of effort to try to win the dog's favor; as time went by, I didn't take the initiative to get close to it. The animal was not a hound of any kind.The people on board finally had to call him the captain, and he seemed to know the daily affairs of the ship like the back of his hand.The dog clearly had seafaring experience. Thus it was understood that the bosun's joke in reply to Clifton's friend was understood.And the claim wasn't so flimsy; more than one repeated it with a laugh, expecting to see the dog someday take human form and command the ships with a voice that shook the earth.

If Richard Sandon had not been influenced by similar thoughts, he was not without worry, and on the eve of departure, on the evening of April 5, he had a conversation with the doctor, Wall, and Mr. Johnson in the poop conference room. this topic. The four tasted a tenth of a grog.It was doubtless their last drink, for according to the requirements of Aberdeen's letter, no one on board, from the captain to the fireman, was strictly forbidden to drink, that is to say, they could not get wine, beer, Hard alcohol, unless you are sick and have a doctor's prescription. But since an hour the conversation has turned to departure.If the captain's instructions had been followed through, Sandon would have received a letter the next day containing his final instructions.

"If this letter," said the commander, "does not tell me the captain's name, at least tell us where the ship is going. Otherwise, where is the ship going?" "Indeed," replied the doctor impatiently, "if I had been you, Sandon, I would have set off without the letter; the letter would have followed us, and I am right." "You don't hesitate, doctor! But where are you taking the boat, please?" "Driving to the North Pole, obviously! There's no doubt about it, nothing to worry about." "Nothing to worry about!" Wall retorted, "Why not go to the South Pole?"

"Antarctica," cried the doctor, "impossible! Would the captain think of crossing the Atlantic in this ship! Think about it. My dear Wall." "Doctors can give you answers to everything," said the latter. "Go north," went on Sandon, "but tell me, doctor, to Spitsbergen? Or to Greenland? To Labrador, or to Hudson's Bay? If all roads lead to the same goal, that is, the unsurmountable ice pack, there are many roads, and I really don't know whether to choose this one or the other. Can you give me one A definitive answer, doctor?" "No," replied the latter, much annoyed at being speechless; "but anyway, in a word, what will you do if you don't get your letter?"

"I'm not doing anything, I'm waiting." "Aren't you going?" cried Crawford, waving his glass desperately. "Yes, for sure." "That's more sensible," replied Mr. Johnson slowly, and the doctor was circling the table now, because he couldn't sit still. "Yes, it is more sensible, but waiting too long will also cause Negative consequences: First, the season is good; to go north, we should take advantage of the thaw to cross Davis Strait; also, the crew will grow concerned that our men's friends and companions will let them go 'forward' No, they will have a bad influence on us."

"It should be added," continued James Wall, "that if fear arose among our sailors, they would desert one by one, and I do not know, Commander, whether you will be able to reorganize your fleet. " "But what to do?" exclaimed Sandon. "You mean," retorted the doctor, "to wait, at least until to-morrow before despairing. The captain's promise has hitherto been fulfilled without a hitch; there is no reason to believe that we will not be told ours when necessary." Destination; I have not for a moment doubted that we shall sail the seas of Ireland tomorrow; so, my friends, I propose to toast one last time to our pleasant journey, which started off a little strangely, but with people like you Sailor, success is what you want." So the four clinked glasses for the last time. "Now, Commander," went on Mr. Johnson, "if I have one piece of advice for you, it is to make all preparations before departure, and to reassure the crew of what you are doing. Whether or not there is a letter to-morrow , get ready to sail, no fires lit; the wind tends to be steady; nothing saves so much effort as sailing with a crosswind; put the pilot on board, and at high tide, out of the pier, outside Birkenhead Headland Anchor; our people have no more contact with the land, and if this diabolical letter comes at last, it will find us there or elsewhere." "Well said, my good Johnson!" said the doctor, extending his hand to the aged sailor. "Just do as he says!" Sandon replied. Everyone went back to their rooms, sleeping hard, waiting for the sun to come up. The next day the first letters were distributed in the city, none addressed to Commander Richard Sandon. Nevertheless, he made ready to set off; the word spread quickly in Liverpool, as it was seen, that the crowds were rushing to the docks in the new Port of Princes. Many of them came on board, some to hug his companion for the last time, some to resign their friends, some to have a last look at this strange ship, some to know where the voyage was heading, and they whispered. Whisper, seeing the Commander more silent and cautious than ever. He has his reasons for doing so. The clock struck ten, and then eleven.At low tide about one o'clock in the afternoon, Shandon stood high on the forecastle, looking anxiously at the crowd, trying to read the secret of his fate in some one's face.But in vain. The sailors on the "Forward" carried out his orders in silence, never took their eyes off him, and waited for the communication that could not be reached. Mr. Johnson finished his preparations for sailing.The sky was overcast, and the sea was rough outside the dock; the wind was blowing hard from the southwest, but it was an easy start from the Mersey. At noon, when there was still no movement, Dr. Clobney paced restlessly up and down, squinting and gesticulating. "Can't wait for the sea," he said with some Latin grace.He was overwhelmed and overwhelmed.Shandon bit his lips tightly, bleeding. At this moment Johnson came up to him and said: "Commander, if we're going to take advantage of the low tide, we shouldn't waste time. We'll have to leave the pier in an hour." Sandon took a last look around him, and then at his watch.The time for delivering the letter at noon has passed. "Go!" he said to the bosun. "On the road, everyone!" shouted the latter, ordering the spectators to leave the deck of the "Forward". There was a commotion in the crowd, and men began to jump on the gangway, back to the dock, and the men on board let go of the last anchors. But the confusion caused by the jostling and shoving of the sailors, who showed little respect for the curious beings, was mixed with the howling of the dogs.The animal leaped over the dense crowd of spectators to the forecastle ahead, its voice dull. People dodged it when they saw it, it jumped up the poop, and the unthinkable happened, but thousands of witnesses saw it, and the dog captain had a letter in his teeth. "A letter!" cried Sandon, "but is 'he' on board?" "'He' was on the ship, no doubt, but he's not on the ship anymore," Johnson replied, pointing to the empty deck after the intruder had gone. "Captain! Captain! Here!" cried the doctor, and he tried to take the letter, but the dog threw his hand away with a violent leap.It seemed that it was going to deliver the letter to Sandon himself. "Here, Captain!" cried the latter. The dog approached; Sandon took the letter without difficulty, and Captain Dog barked three times in the deep silence of the ship and the quay. Shandon took the letter and did not open it. "You can read the letter! Read the letter!" shouted the doctor. Shandon looked.There was no date or location on the envelope, just the following: "Commander Richard Sandon on board the 'Forward'". Sandon opened the letter and read: "You sailed towards the Cape of Good Hope, and you reached that place on April 20th. If the captain is not on board, you cross the Davis Strait and up the Baffin Sea to Melvey Sound. Captain of the 'Forward' KZ. " Sandon carefully folded the concise letter, put it in his pocket, and gave the order to set off.His voice resounded in the east wind, with a certain solemn meaning. The "Forward" was soon out of the dock.A pilot from Liverpool led the way, and his dhow followed at a distance, down the current of the Mersey.Crowds flocked to the outer pier of Victoria Dock for one last glimpse of the peculiar ship.The two foresails, fore- and mizzen-sails were soon up, and the Forward, worthy of her name, set sail and rounded Birkenhead at full speed on the Irish Sea. go ahead.